The Birds and the Bees Mountains

The other night, while eating dinner, little man finished his plate of pasta and hopped down from the table. Little man was in a particularly social mood and even though daddy and I were still eating, little man came over to my side of the table to continue our "What did you do today?" conversation.

Little man pointed at my shirt. I had on a purple sweater with a white camisole underneath.

"Mommy what is that?" Little man asked as he pointed to my sweater.

"That's my shirt," I said.

"No, momma, what's that?" Little man asked as he again pointed at my shirt.

"Oh, that's another shirt," I said. "Mommy has on two shirts today."

"No, momma, what is that?" Little man asked for the third time.

I thought perhaps I had some pasta sauce on my shirt or a piece of lint. I looked down to where little man was pointing.

"What are those ... mountains?" Little man asked.

As I looked down, I realized what exactly little man was pointing at. He had just become increasingly aware of the different physiques of men and women.

I was not prepared to have the boys vs. girls conversation this early. My mind raced trying to find something to say.

My husband, on the other hand, was no help. He was too busy rolling on the floor laughing.

I finally uttered the only thing I could think of:

"Mommy's have mountains," I answered, trying desperately not to laugh and praying it was enough.

Please, God. No. More. Questions.

"Oh, OK," little man said. He than ran off to play.

In complete horror, humor and shock I watched my little man run off to the living room to play, still not quite sure of exactly what just happened, but ever grateful that more questions did not follow.

Daddy, on the other hand, was a different story.

"At least he called them mountains," he said.

Fireman

Little man has decided that he wants to be a fireman when he grows up.

He's always love firetrucks. There is a fire station just across the street from the entrance to our subdivision. When the garage doors are up, little man always loves to see the firetruck inside as we drive past. Sometimes it's even outside, in which little man always squeals with delight.

Most recently we have been blessed with some warm Spring weather. The sunny afternoons and warm temperatures have made for some fun weekends outside. Last weekend little man helped daddy wash the cars in the driveway. Not only was he excited to be helping, but once his little hands got on the hose and he was able to spray the water, little man could hardly contain himself.

"I'm a fireman!" He exclaimed as he sprayed the water. "I spray the hose like fireman!"

His love of firefighters also extends well onto the playground. One warm afternoon I left work a bit early. I was happy to be able to pick up the little man from preschool early and spend what was left of the afternoon with him. When I got there the kids were playing outside. I found little man at the top of the play house. Much to mommy's horror he then reached out to the sliding pole just off of the side. I immediately reached up to grab him.

"No mommy!" He scolded. "I can do it. I'm a fireman!"

Before I knew it, little man was sliding down the pole, just like a fireman. His friend was close behind him.

They were firemen.

A few days later I was loading little man into the car to go to preschool. He ran to a support pole in our garage and began spinning around it.

"Weeeeee!" He screamed.

I honestly had no idea what he was doing.

"I slide down pole like fireman," little man said. "There's an emergency! 9-9-1!"

I giggled to myself as I snatched little man up and put him into his car seat.

"It's 9-1-1," I said. "You call 9-1-1 for an emergency."

"I wanna be a fireman," little man said.

And with that I was once again reminded that my little man was growing up right before my eyes.

And I also knew that it would be in my best interest to keep the hose and sprayer locked up this summer, just in case someone should decide it's a 9-9-1 emergency.

Big Words, Little Man

The little man has been surprising us lately with some big words ... there seems to have been an explosion lately of new words and phrases that have definitely caught us off guard and given us a laugh or two:

When mommy was fiddling around with the car DVD player:
"You just need to be patient, mommy."

When giving little man a bite of my oatmeal:
"Mmmm, that's delicious, mommy."

When playing with daddy in the sandbox:
"Daddy, you need to move over there. You're kinda freaking me out."

And finally, our first "when I grow up ..."
"I want to be a fireman when I grow up."

Confessions of a Mombie

I used to always swear that when I had children, I would not become one of those mothers whose lives revolved around their child. I hated it when at parties or luncheons a woman would only speak about her little Johnny's latest and greatest. I hated getting together with friends who were also mommy's and have the entire visit be occupied by how junior was walking, junior was counting to three and how junior said the cutest thing the other day.

I swore I wouldn't be a mommy zombie (a.k.a. "mombie).

Then I held little man in my arms for the first time.

I became that which I swore I would not.

I suddenly had a kinship with my old friends who I had dubbed mombies. I now understood. However, I then saw my friends who did not have children slip away.

I do try to not be preoccupied with all things little man when out with a friend who isn't a mommy. I remember those days. I remind myself that my dear, dear friend won't be nearly as excited to hear that little man is out of diapers for good, no matter how exciting that news is to me and my fellow mombies.

However, I've also found that when I try not to speak of all things little man ... I find myself silent. My family is my world. Sure, I am living my dream as a professional (and paid) writer and I work in an interesting industry ... but that isn't my life. My husband, my son ... that's where my heart is.

My confessions:

• I still check in on little man during the night. I will not leave until I confirm he is still breathing.
• My office door is covered in little man artwork and I have 14 photos of him throughout my office.
• His first word was "buttons" and I am convinced that makes him a genius.
• I am still surprised that he has blond hair.
• I know I should let him walk. But I want to carry him.
• I never get used to feeling his arms around my neck as he hugs me.
• I tell him "I love you" no less than 100 times a day. I can't help it.
• The first time little man and I were alone together in the hospital I held him on my lap and swore to him that I would give him the most magical childhood and that he would grow up knowing just how loved he is. Not a day goes by that I don't remember making him that promise.

So, here I am admitting to the world that I am, indeed, a mombie. While I once envisioned a Pulitzer on my desk, I now envision a 15th photo of little man. I can definitely say that my quiet life with my family is more fulfilling than any headline, any scoop or any Editor in Chief title I've ever had.

And that makes me smile.

Desiree, Mombie in Chief

Little Chef

My husband I both love to cook. We are constantly looking for new recipes and fun little cooking gadgets to play with. By Friday afternoon our minds are aflurry with just one question: What should we cook this weekend?

Our love of cooking has now apparently trickled down to the little man. Little man has always loved food. While he does exhibit some typical 3-year-old pickiness, little man is definitely a foodie.

His favorites are pasta alfredo and french onion soup.

Yes, you read that right.

French onion soup. He can't get enough of it.

Lately, however, little man has been showing an interest in more than just eating food.

For Christmas, little man got a little toy grill, complete with little plastic hamburgers, hot dogs, and even set of grilling tools. He insisted on putting it outside next to daddy's grill, however when we explained it was too cold outside for it, he settled on a spot in the kitchen. Nearly every night he opens up his grill and cooks something for us. Now that the weather is getting nicer, we have let him sneak his grill outside, where he will park it next to daddy's grill and imitate daddy's every move, from cleaning the grill with the grill brush, to every flip and turn.

However, his love of cooking doesn't extend to just grilling.

When I am making muffins, I am almost certainly guaranteed help. The minute I break out the muffin pan, little man quickly jumps, runs to get his step stool and takes his place next to me, helping me scoop the batter into the tins. When we put them into the oven, I must keep the oven light on so that little man can see them cooking.

Nearly every time we are cooking something on the stove top, little man will beg us to please lift him up to see it. Even if it's just Hamburger Helper, little man carefully watches each move we make.

Little man even insists we forward through nearly the first quarter of Ratatouille. He could care less about the rats and how they came to be in the city. He wants us to skip ahead to the kitchen, where the cooks are busy chopping, sauteing and stewing.

"I want the cooking," little man will say. "I no like this part."

Even just this weekend, while we were visiting Grammy Jo, a large thunderstorm rolled in just as we had heated up the grill for dinner. Despite the thunder and dark, gray skies, little man could not be dissuaded.

With his tongs in his hand, little man insisted he help daddy flip the steaks.

"But buddy, it's raining outside. You should stay in here and just watch me," my husband said while opening the patio door.

"No daddy, I help," little man insisted.

"But it's raining," my husband said as he knelt down to explain to little man why he needed to stay inside.

"Daddy, let's go cook!" Little man said, as he tapped daddy on the chest with his grilling tongs. He was determined to brave the storm and help daddy.

And with that, daddy and the little man braved the thunder and cold rain. Little man insisted on helping, despite the rain and booming thunder.

"Mommy, I help daddy cook!" Little man said when he returned, his blond hair wet from the rain and his eyes beaming.

And later that night we dined on perfectly grilled steaks. Cooked with love by daddy and our own little chef.

Cuddles

So far we've been really lucky this winter. Little man has had by far fewer colds this winter than last. Last winter it seemed as if his nose would never stop running and his cough was almost constant.

However, last weekend we both came down with colds. Little man appears to be a day or two ahead of me and is already on the upswing. Mommy, however, has felt like she has been hit by a truck.

Tonight, daddy took the little man with him to the gym to give mommy some time to rest after dinner. I enjoyed my sweatpants and DVR'd episode of Big Love and before I knew it, they were home.

When little man walked in he brought with him what has to be the best, all-natural cold remedy.

Cuddles.

"Mommy, you feeling good now?" Little man asked me when he walked in.

"Oh, I'm OK," I said. "Mommy has a little cold."

Little man then picked up his favorite blanket and covered me up with it.

"Here you go, mommy," little man said. "I cover you up."

I thanked him for the blanket. My heart was warmed with the sweet thought.

"Mommy, I come in," little man said as he climbed up onto the couch with me.

Little man then proceeded to snuggle in next to me on the couch. He pulled the blanket over him and laid his head down on my pillow.

"You good now mommy?" Little man asked.

And before I knew it, my headache was gone, my body was warm and my once stuffy nose could smell the scent of little man's "splashing apple toss" shampoo.

Good things definitely come in small packages.